Let Me Love You
by KelliP
Summary: "Just as he'd taken down her own wall, she was determined to help take down his." Meredith may not have known him, but she does. A post-ep for 5x10 Significant Others.


**A/N:** Yes. Another post-ep. I couldn't help myself. I wanted to explore something in the opposite direction to the first one I wrote. Enjoy.

* * *

**LET ME LOVE YOU**

* * *

She didn't fall asleep that night.

Across town, between her own sheets and without Castle by her side, Kate Beckett couldn't fall asleep. Meredith's words were playing on a haunting loop in her mind, clenching her heart and pressing a heavy weight on her chest until she suffocated.

Meredith never knew him. The actress said he'd known everything about her- dreams, fears, her deepest and darkest secrets- but she'd barely known a thing about him. It's not the way a marriage could ever work.

It's not the way their own partnership could work.

Was she really any different to Meredith? Did she know anything _real_ about Castle? Anything deeper than the open surface layer he kept exposed for everyone to see? It was a defence mechanism, she realised. His humour, his flamboyant personality; all of it kept from letting anyone- _her_- get too close. Provided everyone with just enough scrapings off his surface layer for it to feel as if they knew everything about him.

But no one really did.

Then there were all the things Meredith knew about him that she didn't. That he enjoyed nutmeg in his coffee, or how his left eyebrow twitched only when he was anxious. However seemingly insignificant, however ridiculous, they left a niggling doubt in her mind, opened up a spiralling hole beneath her feet that seemed to suck her deeper with every insecurity she had about their relationship.

She was almost buried neck-deep before Beckett managed to push thoughts of Meredith and Castle and their failed marriage from her mind.

She knew him. She did. She asked the right questions, would wait patiently until he'd selected the perfect words to respond with. Though some would misconstrue this as Castle being too careful, too closed off, she knew better. He simply played his cards close to his chest.

And so did she.

They fit.

So just as he'd taken down her own wall, she was determined to help take down his.

* * *

They lie side by side between the sheets of his bed once again the following night. Their limbs were tangled together in a perfect mess, her body tucked comfortably against his. Her face was mashed against his neck, her breathing short puffs across his skin. His fingers trailed up and down the curve of her spine, sending a racing shot of sparks through her as they travelled over each bumpy ridge.

"Your given name is Richard Alexander Rodgers," she whispered suddenly. "And your favourite colour is red."

The path his fingers traced along her back slowed at her sudden spouting of knowledge about him, but he spoke no interrupting words.

"Your favourite flavour of ice cream is rocky road. You prefer to eat it from a cone because it brings back memories from your childhood, but you like how much extra sugary goodness you can throw into a bowl."

She pressed her lips tenderly to his neck, let them linger against his warm skin.

"While the other kids may have been out on the football field or even watching from the bleachers, you spent every day of your childhood in the library. You wanted to absorb as much of the written world as you could, so one day you would walk into a library and see your own works sitting on the shelves."

She let her head fall back, angled her face to whisper directly into his ear, as if she were whispering deep into his soul.

"You never give up," she told him. "You always dig a little deeper, try a little harder. You're persistent, a trait you've turned into something wonderful. After dozens of rejection letters from publishers, you didn't let go of your dream. Even after four years, you never gave up on me. You make things happen for yourself."

The open palm she had resting over his heart slid up his chest, her fingers splaying across his cheek as she applied a light pressure to tilt his head toward hers. Castle followed the action she was seeking for, let his head loll to the side so she could meet his baby blues.

"You have this amazing faith in people," she murmured, a smile curling up on the edges of her lips at the man before her. "You always see a person's best qualities. You help to bring them out, even when they might be buried underneath all the terrible things that have happened in their life."

Forehead resting against his, Beckett let her eyes flutter shut, let the words take over as they washed across his lips.

"The first thing you spent your money on when you hit it big with your books wasn't a Ferrari or a home in the Hamptons or some ridiculous Star Wars collectable. The first thing you did was cash the cheque and write a new one to take straight to the local children's shelter, because you knew there were others more in need of the money than you."

Finally, she closed what little distanced remained between their lips. She let hers linger there for a long moment in a delicate kiss, his lips warm and soft and so completely _Castle_.

"You are an amazing man, Richard Castle," she continued, sweeping a tender thumb across his cheek. "I want to know more. Let me in, Castle. Help me take down your walls, like you've worked so hard at breaking down mine."

There was silence for a moment as he considered her request, and for a moment Beckett was afraid he wouldn't respond. But then his eyes were dancing as the memory of an amusing story flickered in his mind, the words bubbling out of his lips in a quiet excitement. "For a semester during sixth grade I wore a Superman shirt under whatever clothes I'd put on for the day. Just, you know- in case I needed to fight crime at a second's notice."

Beckett let out a breathy laughter, pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "Tell me more. Tell me something deep. Tell me something no one else knows."

"There was a time I nearly gave up on writing," he admitted quietly, something in his tone that almost sounded as if he were ashamed. "It was more than a case of writer's block, more than a lack of inspiration. It was just a complete and utter disappointment in _myself_, a wish that I could turn back the time and change everything that made me who I am today."

She felt her breath knot in her throat at his story. She'd never believed he could ever let go of writing, thought his ability to reach people through his words was a wonderful trait. It was a story they would come back to one day, explore a little deeper. For now, though, she simply brushed back the hair that flopped over his forehead, the end of the locks just covering his eyes. "More, Castle," she pleaded softly. "I want to know more. I want to know you, know everything about you."

"It-" He broke off suddenly, took another moment of silence to uncover the courage to keep talking. "I make a big joke about being _famously fatherless_, but not knowing who he is bothers me more than I let on. Not that I've ever needed him, no. My mother has always been enough. But some days the wonder of _why_ he was never here eats at me. It makes me doubt myself, makes me question who I am as a person, whether I'm good enough for anyone."

"You are," she breathed. "You are _more_ than enough for anyone. For everyone."

From her proximity to him, she felt Castle draw in a long breath, swallow a persistently rising lump in his throat. "My deepest fear- the most gut-wrenching fear I've ever experienced- has always been that I'm not a good father."

Oh. Oh, Castle.

His voice was barely a whisper, so scared, so timid. Unlike anything she's ever heard from him before. It pricked at her heart, made her wonder whether this was a good idea after all. But then he was continuing, letting her in on the fear that had plagued him for nineteen years, letting her share in his burden and help him bear it.

"I- God, I was just a kid when I had her myself. A kid when the doctor handed this tiny baby girl to me and told me she was mine. Aside from a two short marriages, I've raised her on my own. And as much as I've loved having my little girl all to myself, as hard as I've tried to be enough for her, it still haunts me that I might not do right by her."

"You are a wonderful father," she assured him, her lips brushing encouragingly across his. "Never doubt that."

"I knew from the start you were different," he resumed speech without a prompt from her. "You have this… this _aura _around you. You have the capability for every head turn to you whenever you walk into a room. You're strong, but compassionate. Demanding, but so alluring. It's what drew me in, what has kept me hanging onto your every word for years on end.

"And even though it happened long before, it wasn't until the day Raglan was shot- the day I thought _you_ were shot- did I finally admit to myself just how in love with you I was."

Her heart stopped in in chest. He'd never told her that. He hadn't even spoken those three words since the night in her apartment when he'd begged her to just _let go_ of her mother's case.

Beckett finally reopened her eyes. His own were waiting for her, so soft and loving, and she just lost herself in them. She threw a leg over his hip, slid her body along his so every inch of their skin sizzled as they touched. She trailed one arm up and over his shoulder, tangled her fingers in his short and silky locks. The other curled around his bicep, keeping her body pressed along the length of his. With their foreheads still kissing, Beckett pressed her lips softly to his, loving and sweet and representing everything the man in her arms was.

"Thank you for letting me know you, Castle," she whispered. "Thank you for letting me love you."


End file.
